


Winter's Chill

by Eruphadriel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Non-Binary Inquisitor, Nonbinary Character, Other, Trans Inquisitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 13:19:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5587150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eruphadriel/pseuds/Eruphadriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen finds out Triss is nonbinary in a rather embarrassing way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter's Chill

If Cullen had harboured any doubts about the biting threat of winter on the winds, they were long gone. The commander trembled with the chill he had accumulated by standing outside for hours, exposed to the sharp winds that shrieked through the craggy Frostbacks and cut through every layer of armour, fur, and cloth he wore. And the Herald had laughed at his coat. _When last I saw him, he couldn’t laugh through his chattering teeth._

Cullen shut the doors to Haven’s Chantry, and a gust sent a flurry of silver snowflakes fluttering inside. At last. Home, or what was going to be home for the next few months – perhaps even _years._

Thoughts of the end of his day had distracted him from his duties. Then again, _anyone’s_ eyes would have glazed in fantasy at the mention of a scalding hot bath after an afternoon out in the snowy yard.

He wasted no time. Cullen stopped only in his chambers to remove his armour piece by glimmering piece and place it on its rack. When he pulled his boots off and wiggled his toes, he found them absolutely numb. That did not stop him, of course, from bolting out of his rooms and hurrying down the stairs.

It had to be before supper, after which Lady-Ambassador Montilyet would surely call an impromptu council meeting that would, as usual, drag on until all of them wilted with exhaustion. Now was his only chance. He hastened down a long corridor and to a large bath chamber that the clergy used – and was now mostly occupied by Inquisition members. He had expected to find the dimly-lit room empty. But when Cullen entered, he spied someone in the tub nearest the door.

At once, he averted his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” His voice echoed through the steamy, tub-lined room. “Should I –“

”Go on, Rutherford,” Tristane answered. “I don’t mind.”

Cullen’s shoulders slumped in relief. For a moment, the commander feared he had walked in on one of the Chantry sisters. His worries set aside, he hurried to an open space only three tubs down from the Herald, pulled a panel from the wall to release piping hot water, and quickly stripped out of his tunic, breeches, and smalls. He broke into an immediate sweat from the warmth that hung in the air like fog.

“Cold, are we?” Tristane laughed. “You should be grateful we’re not on the road. No baths there but for the ones you buy or the rivers you come across.”

Cullen hummed in agreement and stopped the spout. “I doubt Lake Calenhad would be very pleasant tonight.”

The commander winced as he dipped his toes into the water. Then, slowly, he submerged himself. By the time the water reached the backs of his knees, his feet tingled with the heat. When it reached his rear, they were completely numb once more. Cullen fought against a gasp when he let himself down to his waist. Tristane chuckled.

“You’ll come out of that red as a lobster, Commander,” he warned. “Or with one less layer of skin.”

“I think I would prefer that, my lord. Working outside all day isn’t as I had hoped it would be. If I could only take back those baths I refused as a child.” He turned to face the Herald. “That’s not to say the Kirkwall Chantry was an especially, ah... _clean_ place to work.”

“Blood of innocents _is_ hard to scrub off one’s hands.”

Cullen frowned. “I regret that. All of it, in fact. It’s why I left.”

“Which is what I admire about you.” Tristane smiled, and the subject was dropped. He ran long, slender fingers through his short hair, wetting his brown locks until they came back black. “I _hate_ travelling. There are too few good, cheap inns. Obviously,” he gestured to his bath, which reached just beneath his shoulders, “I take advantage whenever I can.”

“You’re wise to do so,” replied Cullen, but Tristane had already dunked his head under the water.

For a moment, there were only bubbles to indicate Tristane’s presence. Cullen settled further into his bath. When the Herald surfaced, he swept his hair back from his eyes. The burning hot water singed Cullen’s sides as he reached for a bar of soap.

“It’s unfortunate that _bathing_ should be considered an indulgence, really,” said the commander. He glanced up as Tristane rose to his feet from the water.

The soap flew from his grip and dove with a _plunk!_ into his bath.

The Herald frowned. “Something wrong?”

Cullen felt his cheeks heat up, and he knew his face was bright scarlet. His mouth hung open and he stared at Tristane for much too long before he gathered himself and looked away.

“I didn’t know – I thought – Maker’s Breath, Tris– m-my lady.”

“Lady? What are you...” Tristane glanced down. “Oh! Right. _That._ Well, you just assumed, and you were partially right anyway. I didn’t feel the need to correct you.”

“You should have! I never meant to insult you, I –“ Cullen furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, ‘partially right?’”

From the tone of his – hers – _whoever’s_ voice, he knew Tristane pouted mockingly.

“Oh, dear. You’ve never heard of someone like me, have you? Let me explain it to you this way: I am both, at once, or sometimes one, but always capable of being the other.”

“Just answer me this: are you a man or a woman?”

“Yes.”

Cullen looked up to see if she was serious, then quickly averted his eyes once more. “That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it– I’m not going to argue!”

“There _is_ no argument! I’m the only one who can know who I am, right?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. This time, he was not sweating because of the bath’s heat. “Right,” he admitted, for it was true.

“And just because you haven’t experienced it, doesn’t mean it isn’t real.” The bath water splashed as she climbed out. “Like how you’re not a Qunari, but if they tell you that their horns itch you would believe them because _they would know_. And your lack of knowledge is never questioned. Right?”

“I suppose so.”

She shrugged. “So? What kind of person are you? The Ally, the Debater, or the Pervert?”

“I beg your pardon!”

“There’s always one. Either you’re a good person, the Ally; someone who _insists_ on arguing with me, the Debater; or someone who is confused yet aroused by me, the Pervert.”

Cullen hid his face in his hands as it flushed a deeper shade of red. “Andraste preserve me,” he muttered.

Tristane giggled. “The Pervert, then.”

“What? No! I –!” Cullen’s protests dissipated into a groan of frustration.

The Herald broke out into a hearty laugh. A towel snapped, and Cullen allowed himself a small peek at her. Her... _features_ were small, and scars covered her from her collar to her knees, but there was no mistaking her. Now, when he saw her face, he noticed how her lips were wide and plush, and pushed out like pink rose petals. Her lashes were long as well, and though her father most definitely bequeathed to Tristane his proud jaw and nose, the commander now noticed her sharp cheekbones, her soft eyes, and her... Well, femininity.

 _But what i_ s _feminine or masculine?_ he wondered. He felt a headache coming on.

“What do I call you?” he asked.

“My friends call me ‘Triss’ and they usually refer to me as ‘she.’ But to be perfectly honest with you, Rutherford, I’m neither here nor there on the subject of names. I am a person, and not as strict as most – though they’ve a right to be.” Then, she added, “Oh, you can look now. I’m all wrapped up.”

Cullen nodded slowly at her words and lifted his gaze back to her as she drained the tub. “Should I tell anyone else? Would you like me to, I mean.”

To that, Triss waved her hand dismissively. “I will tell them on my own time. But,” her eyes flickered about then returned to him, and her voice dropped to a whisper, “if any of your recruits decides to make a snarky remark about me –“

”Their duties will be doubled, and they will make no such comments again, I can assure you.”

Triss smirked in unexpected satisfaction. “I was going to tell you to send the Iron Bull after them. You’ve seen the way he speaks about Krem.”

Cullen tried to keep his surprise from crossing his face. Judging by the Herald’s chuckle, he failed.

“Yes,” said Triss, “Krem is _one of us_. We always have the good-looking ones, don’t we?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to seem – Or, if I am being rude, you would know. I didn’t mean to be rude, but it was a surprise to –“

 _”It’s fine_ , Rutherford,” she interrupted. “Just try not to think about what’s down everyone’s pants. Except for mine. Seeing as you know now.”

Cullen wanted nothing more than to sink slowly into the bath and resurface _only_ when Triss was gone. To his relief, she turned to open the door. A long, dark shadow stretched over the floorboards from the light in the doorway. A white-gold-crimson raiment was haloed with warm firelight.

“Good evening, Chancellor Roderick!” Triss greeted him brightly. “Come for a bath, have you? Well, I was just finishing up with our darling commander.” She looked over her shoulder and winked at Cullen. “I’ll see _you_ at supper.”

She squeezed past the chancellor, whose scruffy face was twisted in horror. When he turned his leering eyes onto Cullen, the commander felt his entire body heat up with embarrassment. _Well,_ he thought as he launched into an explanation, _at least I’m no longer cold._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As usual, feedback in appreciated and encouraged ^^


End file.
